Denied Drink and Disheveled Hair
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Thor is so busy feeling sorry for himself that he forgets to hold onto hope. He also forgets to cut his hair.  Written in response to the first Avengers trailer!  Rated K-plus for small mentions of drunken violence.


Okay. I was watching the Avengers trailer-the one at the end of Cap America? If you haven't seen it GO SEE NOW. Er...anyway. I noticed Thor's hair is considerably longer now. But his facial hair still looks somewhat neat. Also a bit darker than it was in Thor.

I fretted over this for awhile, before deciding to _write_ about it. :)

Don't get me wrong-the man is STILL drop-dead hawtness. But I wondered, and wanted an explanation, and came up with this somewhat dramatic-slash-sweet ficlet thingy to explain it. To myself. It's probably **completely** wrong. But whatevas. It's fanfiction ;)

I'm rambling. Apologies.

Enjoy and please review! You guys make me happy when skies are gray! Not that they are...but...you get it :D

Also you guys know I don't own Thor. Do I _really_ have to say it? ;)

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><p>His fingers strummed against the cool metal of the banquet table.<p>

He stared into his reflection within the shining gold, his free hand on his scruffy facial hair .

His food was mostly eaten. His cup of mead, bone dry.

Thor Odinson shot his eyes to the left quickly, quirked an eyebrow in silence at the woman who normally refilled the aforementioned cup. The servant looked at him apologetically, and with not a word uttered, pointed across the room.

Odin Allfather sat at the head of the vast table. He looked his son in the eye and shook his head, his brow furrowed.

The prince scowled, annoyed. It had been nearly four months since he had seen Earth. Since he had existed as a mortal and learned humility and compassion. Since he had made friends with the humans and attempted to sacrifice his own life to save them.

Since he had died from a massive blow to the head by the Destroyer.

Since he had come back to life with a strike of lightning and a mighty wind.

Since he had pulled the woman he loved against him and made promises he could no longer keep.

He could not _take it_.

He needed to leave Asgaard. He wanted to return to Earth. He felt his every breath was shallow and strained and completely _meaningless_ if he could not set eyes on Jane Foster again.

He missed her smile.

He missed her laugh.

He even missed the spark that would ignite in her eyes when she scolded him for his arrogance.

His jaw set tight.

He needed a _**drink**_, for Odin's sake. And it was Odin himself that was refusing him one!

Thor glanced around the table, taking in the quick, subtle gazes his friends and family members were shooting his way. If he heard even _one_ whisper about how he "missed the mortal" or "apparently preferred the company of Earth over Asgaard", he would summon lightning into the room and blast the lot of them over the side of Bifrost.

He blinked then, the thought of such violence towards his own people suddenly sobering him.

He thought of Loki.

And how, despite the low voices gossiping around him, no-one would ever know that it was not _just_ Jane that he drank his sorrows away for.

He missed his brother, too.

Thor knew his parents understood this, at least. The Warrior's Three, as well. And especially Sif. She had shot him sympathetic glances every time his brother had been mentioned by anyone over the past few months.

His mind was suddenly far too clear.

He needed more mead.

He needed it _now_.

He looked across the room to a different housemaid.

She glanced sideways toward his father again and avoided his own gaze.

_**Damn.**_

Odin had, with but a look, effectively shut down his night of drinking.

But why?

The Allfather had witnessed his son overtaken by the power of drink before. Many feasts celebrating great battles or royal birthdays saw Thor outdoing even Volstagg or Fandral in his consumption of Asgaard's finest mead.

Was his father cutting him off because he was to be expected to hold the throne soon?

Was it because he was drinking due to sorrow rather than joy?

Why did it _matter_?

Thor ran a hand over his face. The thick facial hair prickled his skin. His fingers met the soft strands of his hair as the hand met his forehead.

When had his hair gotten so long?

His mouth was dry and he temper threatened to flare. He wanted a drink.

He wanted his brother sitting in the chair next to him.

He wanted the Bifrost repaired.

He wanted to hold Jane Foster again.

But the drink was closest. And he _would_ have it.

Thor opened his mouth to command the servant to him. To hell with his father's decree. It was not as if he were doing something so reckless as to break another brittle truce and ignite another war with a fellow realm!

His voice found him at the same moment a hand landed softly on his shoulder.

Thor stilled. Grew quiet.

The gentle whisper from his mother brought his rage down in an instant.

"My son, the mead will not help you find your way back to Earth. And we cannot have you habitually drunken when you return to your mortal Jane, can we? She would not find joy in your sorrow. She would not approve of your anger. Be still, Thor. You will see her in time."

Her face came into view and Thor bent back slightly to wrap an arm around Frigga's waist in something of a hug.

Besides Jane, the mother of Asgaard was the only being in the nine realms whose words could stay his enraged hand.

His voice was low, and his eyes darted around quickly to end any stray eavesdropping.

"You are right of course. I am sorry, Mother."

Frigga smiled in that manner that brought peace to all who looked upon it.

"You are forgiven, son. But what I certainly _cannot_ forgive is your refusal to _groom_ properly! When are you going to cut this hair? Or trim your beard? Do you want the Lady Foster to see you so unkempt?"

Thor smiled beneath the now darkening whiskers on his face. She may be unusually gentle, but the Queen was still a mother.

And she could certainly nag like one when the time called for it.

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><p>He stared in awe before him. Mjolnir clutched tight in his fist, it radiated excitement and apprehension.<p>

The breeze blew cold against the newly trimmed stubble on his face.

Thor stood atop the highest tower in Asgaard.

His gaze was fixed on a single point in the distance. The mountains beyond the city were lit with a bright glow, unmistakable to any Aesir.

A blinding white ray of light stood stationary within them, coming from a point in the sky that not even Heimdall himself would be able to see with just his eyes.

It came from another realm.

And Thor knew, somehow, he _knew_….

It was coming from Earth.

The shattered Bifrost behind him seemed to sing its praise, as if greeting this replicated portal.

The tower beneath his feet trembled slightly. The ground far below shook. The light could not remain long, lest it do similar damage to Asgaard that their own Bifrost had brought upon Jotunheim.

Whoever had opened this pathway seemed to be waiting.

And as Mjolnir grew warm in his palm against the cold breeze blowing in from the mountains, Thor felt positive that they were waiting for _him_.

He looked back at the Great Hall briefly. Thought of his mother's words. Thought of his father's gaze.

Excitement and clarity rushed through him.

Mead was not necessary.

He was going to Earth.

To see Jane.

His hand threw the long bangs from his face as the wind whipped through it.

He regretted not having time enough for that hair cut…..

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><p><strong>AN**: So this is what I envision just before Thor comes back to Earth in Avengers. Dunno. Just random flashes of things and happenings. ;) I'm certain the writers and director will do a much better job lol!


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